


to take your crown

by deducingontheroof



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Begging, Blindfolds, Bondage, Choking, Cock Rings, Crying, Degradation, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Name-Calling, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Vibrators, this is just 7k of pure filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 12:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deducingontheroof/pseuds/deducingontheroof
Summary: “I’m going to break you, Hanamiya-kun,” Shoichi promises, his voice practically a purr. “I’m going to take you apart and make you scream. I’ll make you beg for more.”Hanamiya raises a cocky eyebrow, but Shoichi notices the subtle tremor as the younger boy holds back a moan. “Go ahead and try.”





	to take your crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [augustgreatsword](https://archiveofourown.org/users/augustgreatsword/gifts).



> quick note: they don't use condoms in this fic. this is prenegotiated and consensual. everything that happens is consensual, and imayoshi is a responsible dom. practice safe kink yall. aftercare is important.
> 
> this is pure filth, enjoy. ily august, i hope u like it!
> 
> [title from stfd - tezatalks]

The numbers aren’t adding up.

Shoichi sighs, running a hand through his hair as he realizes that his calculations are correct. It’s the numbers that are the issue here, not the computation. Their profits for the month are lower than their records suggest they should be. Significantly lower.

Someone in the family has sticky fingers, and Aomine will not be pleased to hear about it.

Shoichi sighs again, his eyes darting to the depleted shelves of his liquor cabinet and debating. He could make himself a drink, and another, and forget all about numbers and thieves and anger until the morning, when he’s expected at the office.

Or.

Or. He could text Hanamiya.

He’s beyond annoyed with himself for even _considering_ it. He’s loyal to the Aomine-kai, and sleeping with Hanamiya even once, knowing that he’s heir to the Hanamiya-gumi, is a major betrayal. 

He shouldn’t have slept with Hanamiya once. He shouldn’t have gotten Hanamiya’s number. And he _definitely_ should not have continued to sleep with Hanamiya throughout the past six months.

But there’s something about the younger man that has Shoichi enraptured.

Hanamiya’s brash. He’s cruel, and driven, and intelligent. He’s phenomenal, and he’s probably the only reason the Hanamiya-gumi continues to threaten and provoke the Aomine-kai.

Shoichi wants to break him.

He _needs_ it, needs Hanamiya. It’s an itch, a burn, originating at his core. It’s a burn that never cools, an itch that can never be scratched.

_[it’s what some people call love, but shoichi is not some people]_

He lets himself debate between the only two things guaranteed to relieve some of this stress for another minute or two before making up his mind. 

To hell with it. 

Aomine hasn’t found out so far, and one more night won’t change that.

Before he has the chance to doubt himself any more, he snatches his phone off of the desk and send off a text to Hanamiya — brief, direct, and to the point, just like their relationship. 

And he waits.

He wants to make a drink while he waits, take some of the edge off, but he can’t let himself. With the amount of trust and control Hanamiya gives him, it would be both unsafe and disrespectful to go into a scene without a clear head. He settles for lighting a smoke, not bothering to step outside like he normally would. No, instead, he watches the smoke curl through the air, weaving circles and rings below the harsh artificial light of his study.

It’s less time than Shoichi expects, hardly five minutes, when a loud knock resounds through the apartment, announcing Hanamiya’s arrival. He’s surprised at how fast Hanamiya got there, but he’s not going to spend the time dissecting the ridiculously quick arrival time. That’s not what tonight is about anymore.

Instead, he sticks the smoke lazily between his lips and pads towards the door.

“Evening, Imayoshi-san,” Hanamiya greets, trademark smirk on his face and knowing glint in his eyes. Shoichi steps to the side and lets him in, locking it behind him.

“Give me a minute,” Shoichi tells, taking a long drag off his smoke. Hanamiya shrugs, waltzing into Shoichi’s apartment like he owns the damn place and plopping himself down in Shoichi’s armchair.

“Rough night?” Hanamiya asks innocently.

“The worst,” Shoichi grumbles in response. “One of our kyoudai has sticky fingers.”

“Ooh, a traitor,” Hanamiya says, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. “Should you really be telling _me_ that, Imayoshi-san?”

“You won’t do anything,” Shoichi dismisses with a low chuckle. “You know what will happen if you do.”

He finishes his smoke, carelessly tossing the butt into an ashtray, and gives Hanamiya his full attention.

“Green?” Shoichi asks.

Hanamiya grins. “Green.”

The word is barely out of his mouth when Shoichi moves, a rough hand fisting in his hair and a knee forcing its way between Hanamiya’s own, forcing them open and pressing firmly against his crotch.

“I’m going to break you, Hanamiya-kun,” Shoichi promises, his voice practically a purr. “I’m going to take you apart and make you scream. I’ll make you beg for more.”

Hanamiya raises a cocky eyebrow, but Shoichi notices the subtle tremor as the younger boy holds back a moan. “Go ahead and try.”

“Oh, I will.” Shoichi smirks, taking a moment to appraise the boy trapped beneath him. “How shall I take you apart today, hmm? Should I take you rough, fuck you into the floor? Do you want to _hurt_ , Makoto? Or should I go slow? Tie you up and ravish you until you’re begging for release?”

Hanamiya rolls his eyes, that smirk still present on his face. Shoichi won’t accept that for long.

“You tell me, Imayoshi-san. I thought you were in control here.” Hanamiya shrugs, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. 

“Oh, I am,” Shoichi promises, tugging sharply on Hanamiya’s hair and dragging a yelp out of the younger boy. “I was being nice, for once, but it’s clear now that you don’t have any suggestions for tonight. Lucky for you, I have _plenty_.”

Something in Hanamiya’s eyes shifts ever so slightly. “I do have some ideas—”

“Too late for that, Hanamiya-kun.” Shoichi tuts, tugging harder on Hanamiya’s hair and forcing the boy’s head against the back of the couch. “You had your chance. Now it’s time to be quiet and do what you’re told, for once in your life.”

“Make me,” Hanamiya snarls.

“Are you listening? I told you to be quiet.” Shoichi lazily forces two fingers past Hanamiya’s lips, pressing down on his tongue. “Do I need to gag you already? I haven’t even used that pretty little mouth yet, and you’re already begging me to shut you up.”

Hanamiya tries to speak through the fingers, but the pressure Shoichi is exerting is controlled and unwavering. Instead, Hanamiya glares up at him with eyes that convey his meaning well enough.

“Trying to swear at me, are we?” Shoichi chuckles, “Don’t get any ideas, Hanamiya-kun, _I’ll_ be the one fucking _you_. Would I really let someone as pathetic as you fuck me?”

Without warning, Shoichi uses his grip on Hanamiya’s hair to drag him to his feet, not quite sure if the pained sound that tears itself from his throat is a yelp or a moan — but, then again, aren’t the two essentially the same when it comes to Hanamiya? The younger boy gets off on the pain, after all, as much as Shoichi gets off on inflicting it. It’s why they work.

“This is the last choice I’m going to give you tonight, Hanamiya-kun, so choose wisely,” Shoichi warns, with just a subtle touch of mockery in his voice. “Am I fucking you out here, or in the bedroom?”

It takes a moment for Hanamiya to speak, swallowing uncertainly. “Bedroom.”

Shoichi feels his lips curl up, not sure if he’s smirking or grinning, or if there’s even a difference these days. He uses his unrelenting grip in Hanamiya’s hair to start dragging him roughly towards the bedroom.

“Green?” he checks quickly, pausing.

“Fuck, green, just _hurry_ ,” Hanamiya demands, and Imayoshi tugs harder on his hair, dragging a desperate moan from his mouth.

“Why should I?” Shoichi drawls, “You get off on this, after all, so why should I rush around to do what you want me too? Hmm? I bet you could come just like this, just from me pulling your hair. You slut.”

“Only for you, Imayoshi-san.” Hanamiya manages a teasing tone through his desperation, and Shoichi clicks his tongue.

“You’re still such a brat, Hanamiya-kun,” Shoichi chides, “You’re not nearly desperate enough. Don’t worry, I can fix that.”

Without warning, Shoichi releases Hanamiya entirely, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Imayoshi-san?”

“Strip and get on the bed,” Shoichi orders lazily, “If you want to get off tonight, you’re gonna earn it.”

Hanamiya makes a vaguely annoyed sound before disappearing into the bedroom, and as soon as he’s out of sight, Shoichi slips into the bathroom to retrieve the discrete box tucked away under the sink. It’s been awhile since he’s spent a night with Hanamiya, and he has some new toys he’s been dying to try out.

Hanamiya won’t like them, but this isn’t about him. He’ll get what Shoichi decides to give him.

When he returns to the bedroom, Hanamiya’s sprawled out on the bed, lazily jerking his cock. He looks up at Shoichi with innocent eyes, and Shoichi lets out a sigh.

“I didn’t realize that you were that dumb, Hanamiya-kun,” Shoichi says, his tone level. “Have you forgotten the rules?”

“You were taking so long,” Hanamiya responds, blinking up at him with the smallest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “I had to entertain myself.”

“Grab the headboard.” Shoichi sets the box down on his dresser, but Hanamiya doesn’t move.

“Why should I?”

“Grab the headboard or I’ll make you,” Shoichi says, his voice hardening as he picks out his toys for the night and sets them out neatly, tucking his favorite pair of cuffs into the back pocket of his jeans. “Don’t test me right now, Makoto. You won’t like what it’ll get you.”

Hanamiya’s eyes are hooded, glimmering with cheek and desire. “I think you’re going to have to make me. I don’t feel like following orders right now, _Shoichi_.”

“And what,” Shoichi hisses, slowly approaching Hanamiya, “gives you the right to use my name, you whore?”

Hanamiya pales, slightly, subtly, and lets out a choked moan as Shoichi straddles him in one fluid motion, purposefully dragging the rough denim of his jeans across Hanamiya’s cock.

“Problem?” Shoichi asks innocently.

“You’re an asshole,” Hanamiya manages.

“What a filthy mouth,” Shoichi says mockingly, “Shut the fuck up, Hanamiya-kun.”

Shoichi reaches around and grabs the pair of metal cuffs, padded with just enough leather to avoid breaking Hanamiya’s skin but not enough to prevent them from hurting like hell. Hanamiya doesn’t fight him as he cuffs the younger boy’s wrists to the headboard, but he definitely doesn’t make it easy. 

“You’re being a real brat today,” Shoichi drawls, running his fingers lightly down Hanamiya’s chest, just _barely_ avoiding his nipples. “I thought you might have learned from last time, but it looks like I’ll have to teach you your place all over again.”

The metal of the cuffs clangs against the metal of the headboard as Hanamiya squirms, apparently just realizing how much Shoichi’s restricted his movement. “Fuck off, just touch me already.”

“You want me to touch you?” Shoichi asks, cocking an eyebrow as his hand instantly finds Hanamiya’s throat, pressing down hard. “Why should I? Hmm? Do you think you deserve it?”

Hanamiya tries to respond, but the snarky comment turns into a pathetic wheeze as Shoichi tightens his grip.

“That’s _much_ better. I like you better when you can’t talk,” Shoichi mocks mercilessly, watching with sadistic satisfaction as Hanamiya struggles to breathe, the faint ghosts of tears beading up at the corners of his eyes. “Do you remember the safe signal?”

Hanamiya rolls his eyes, and snaps his fingers twice. Shoichi can practically hear the condescending _I’m not stupid, Imayoshi-san_ that Hanamiya’s conveying with those sarcastic, sultry eyes, and he presses down harder. He’s sure that Hanamiya’s struggling to breathe, if he can breathe at all, and it’s making Shoichi _painfully_ hard.

He slides his free hand into his jeans, palming lazily at his straining cock as he expertly chokes Hanamiya.

“Fuck, I could come just like this,” Shoichi moans softly, “What do you think about that, Hanamiya-kun? How would you like it if I jerked myself off, right now, and left you like this, tied up and desperate? Isn’t that what you deserve for being such a brat?”

Hanamiya’s eyes widen instinctively, knowing full well that Shoichi isn’t bluffing. He manages to weakly shake his head pleadingly, and Shoichi chuckles.

“Of course that’s not what you want, you slut,” Shoichi sneers, letting go of Hanamiya’s throat. The younger boy immediately starts to cough, desperately gasping for air.

“Fuck me,” Hanamiya demands hoarsely, “You know you want to, you’re hard as fuck, just fuck me already.”

“Is that how you ask when you want something, Makoto?” Shoichi asks, raising an eyebrow. “No, you should know by now that I won’t give you anything if you demand it. If you want me, you’re going to have to beg for it.”

“And _I_ think that you’re going to have to make me,” Hanamiya retorts.

“Oh, I will,” Shoichi promises, “You know that I will. I’m far more patient than you.”

Hanamiya knows it. Shoichi _knows_ that Hanamiya knows it. How could he not, after all these months? They know each other, inside and out, and Shoichi knows exactly how to take Hanamiya apart, piece by piece, unraveling him from the inside out. And despite the fact that Shoichi has all of the control, Hanamiya seems to know how to do the same to Shoichi. Fingers on skin, desperate gasps, Hanamiya’s teasing, mocking, playing… it takes Shoichi apart the same way, until there’s nothing left but Hanamiya and Shoichi and that sweet, burning sensation of pain and pleasure mixing into one, trails of sweat on skin, screams and sobs echoing through Shoichi’s apartment.

_[it’s what some people call love, but shoichi is not some people]_

“Now, what will I start with?” Shoichi ponders aloud, his smirk turning lecherous as he looks up and down Hanamiya’s flushed, heaving body. “I have some new toys for you that you’re going to hate, Hanamiya-kun. Or should I use that filthy mouth of yours first? Show you that the only time you’re worth anything is when you’re choking on cock?”

“I don’t give a shit, just do something already. You prick,” Hanamiya grumbles, attempting to grind up against Shoichi, but Shoichi knows exactly what he’s doing. Hanamiya’s hips are pinned firmly to the bed. He’s not going anywhere until Shoichi allows it, and Shoichi’s not feeling generous right now.

“You’re still not begging for it, Makoto,” Shoichi drawls, clicking his tongue. “How desperate do I have to make you? How cruel do I have to be?”

He sharply tweaks one of Hanamiya’s nipples, and the little whimper Hanamiya lets out goes straight to his cock.

“You’re still gonna have to make me,” Hanamiya manages, his voice trembling. “You haven’t broken me yet.”

“Shut up, and open that dirty mouth,” Shoichi orders, his voice dropping and hardening. He’s done with teasing, at least for now. He’s too turned on to hold back any more. “I’m sick of your voice. Your mouth’s only good for one thing, you whore.”

There’s still a hint of challenge in Hanamiya’s eyes as he blinks lazily up at Shoichi. “Why should I?”

“Enough of your fucking sass,” Shoichi snaps, grabbing Hanamiya’s jaw and forcing his mouth open. “It seems as if you’ve forgotten your place, Makoto.”

Shoichi finally — _finally_ — unzips his jeans, pulling his aching cock out and stroking it a few times. Without warning or hesitation, he pushes into Hanamiya’s mouth, letting out a soft groan as that tight, perfect heat surrounds him.

“Your mouth was made for this,” Shoichi says, managing to keep his composure. “You bitch and you complain, but you were made to submit to me, weren’t you? You were born to take my fucking cock like the slut you are.”

Hanamiya doesn’t protest, can’t protest, but he hums around Shoichi’s cock, and Shoichi can’t hold back a moan at that.

“You little shit,” Shoichi breathes, “I’m going to _destroy_ you.”

Shoichi’s grip on Hanamiya’s jaw makes it easy to hold the younger boy’s mouth open as he fucks down into it, hitting the back of Hanamiya’s throat with every thrust. He’s cruel, but controlled; he doesn’t want to come this early. He has too much planned to abandon his control now.

Hanamiya gags at a particularly brutal thrust, and Shoichi only smirks down at him, adjusting his glasses with his free hand. He stops moving, pushing Hanamiya further up onto his cock, and lets out a soft groan as Hanamiya convulses around him, gagging and choking. 

He keeps Hanamiya there for a few moments, looking down at him and reveling in how absolutely fucked-out he looks already. His cheeks are flushed bright red, his eyes are glazed over, his lips are bruised and wet around Shoichi’s cock.

“You look so good like this, Makoto,” Shoichi purrs, finally letting Hanamiya up. The younger boy immediately gasps for breath, coughing weakly. “Are you ready yet? Are you ready to beg for me?”

“Fuck off,” Hanamiya spits, his hooded eyes looking almost bored. “You’re gonna give in before me, so just fuck me already.”

Shoichi clicks his tongue, and climbs smoothly off of Hanamiya, leaving his jeans unbuckled but tucking himself away again. “You never learn.”

“Where are you going?” Hanamiya demands.

“You’re in no position to be asking questions,” Shoichi says with a slight hum, retrieving the toys he’d selected for the night; a silicone cock ring and a thick vibrator, as well as an almost-empty bottle of lube. He slips the remote into his pocket as he returns to the bed, laying the toys carefully at the end of the bed where Hanamiya can clearly see them.

“Really?” Hanamiya drawls, raising an eyebrow. “How predictable, Imayoshi-san.”

“Keep your smart comments to yourself, Hanamiya-kun,” Shoichi rebukes mockingly, “Or do I need to gag you?”

Hanamiya huffs, but remains silent. Shoichi keeps his face passive, but he knows that he’s winning; that simple show of submission, of obedience, tells him more than Hanamiya realizes.

Shoichi kneels between Hanamiya’s legs, roughly spreading them to give himself better access. “Keep these spread or I’ll cuff them too.”

Hanamiya rolls his eyes, but keeps his legs limp and lets Imayoshi position them the way he wants. He runs a teasing hand along the flushed length of Hanamiya’s neglected cock before snapping the ring into place, emerald silicone tightening around the base of Hanamiya’s shaft.

With that taken care of, Shoichi pops the cap on the bottle lube, liberally coating his fingers. Hanamiya never needs much stretching, but Shoichi’s not rushing anything tonight. No, he’ll draw it all out for as long as he can, until Hanamiya’s sobbing and pleading beneath him.

Shoichi always wins.

Shoichi doesn’t give the lube a chance to warm up before slipping a single finger into Hanamiya, who hisses at the cold. Shoichi smirks, slowly working his finger into Hanamiya, completely avoiding the younger boy’s prostate.

“I’m not gonna break, you can go faster,” Hanamiya complains.

“I could,” Shoichi acknowledges, “but what’s the fun in that?”

He continues to slowly pump one finger in and out of Hanamiya, adding a second only when he’s ready. He doesn’t speed up, though; he takes it slow, almost painfully slow, so he can only _imagine_ how agonizing it must be for Hanamiya. He lazily pumps and scissors his fingers, thoroughly stretching Hanamiya and taking painstaking care to stay far away from Hanamiya’s prostate.

“Are you ready to beg for me, Hanamiya-kun, or shall I keep playing?” Shoichi asks finally, withdrawing and carelessly wiping his hand on the sheets.

“Do whatever you want,” Hanamiya tries to say nonchalantly, but his breath hitches as Shoichi blows softly on the swollen head of his dick.

“If you insist,” Shoichi shrugs, lubing up the vibrator. Hanamiya’s probably stretched enough that Shoichi doesn’t need to bother, but he doesn’t really care. He wants Hanamiya to see what he’s doing, wants Hanamiya to know exactly what he’s gotten himself into. 

“Now,” Shoichi says, sliding the vibrator into Hanamiya with ease, “you’re going to beg for me.”

“Not gonna happen, Shoichi,” Hanamiya purrs.

“We’ll see.” 

Shoichi smirks, taking out the remote and sitting back on his heels. Contemplatively, he studies the setting for a moment before shrugging and turning the vibrator straight to its maximum.

Hanamiya bites back a scream as the toy starts buzzing inside of him, and Shoichi smirks with satisfaction. He knows exactly how to take Hanamiya apart, to shelve his abundant pride and make him scream, make him beg, make him _cry_.

_[it’s what some people call love, but shoichi is not some people]_

Shoichi can see Hanamiya’s jaw working as his head falls heavily back against the pillow, can see his thighs already starting to shake. He won’t last long, not tonight, which is honestly a relief for Shoichi; his cock is aching, and he won’t be able to last much longer than Hanamiya.

“What did I say?” Shoichi clicks his tongue as Hanamiya tries to bring his thighs together, desperately seeking the friction, but Shoichi catches them, forcing Hanamiya’s legs to stay open. “Don’t move those again, or I will cuff them. And you know that I don’t bluff, don’t you?”

Hanamiya’s mouth falls open, but he doesn’t respond, little gasps and moans trickling past his lips instead. 

“Just as I thought,” Shoichi chuckles. 

“Imayoshi-san,” Hanamiya practically whimpers.

“What?” Shoichi asks innocently. “If you want something, Makoto, you need to ask for it. Use your words.”

Even like this, flushed and desperate under Shoichi’s skilled touch, Hanamiya resists, biting his lip.

“Still not there yet? Pity,” Shoichi sighs dramatically. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there. I’ll get you there.”

Shoichi casually thumbs the remote, turning it all the way down. Hanamiya lets out a whine at the loss, his hips bucking up into the air, searching for sensation when Shoichi’s made damn sure that he won’t find it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hanamiya curses roughly, clearly fighting to keep his legs spread. “Fuck, Imayoshi-san, come _on_.”

“Is there something you want, Makoto?” Shoichi purrs, running featherlight fingers along Hanamiya’s flushed thigh. “Is there something you _need_? I can do this all night, so unless you start begging, I won’t give you any more than this.”

Shoichi turns the vibrator back up, and Hanamiya _groans_. It goes straight to Shoichi’s dick, and if Hanamiya doesn’t give in soon he’ll be coming in his jeans.

“Imayoshi-san…” Hanamiya swallows audibly. “ _Please_. I need— please—”

“Now, was that so hard?” Shoichi says, teasing, mocking. 

“Fuck off,” Hanamiya snaps without thinking.

“Oh?” Shoichi raises an eyebrow, turning the vibrator off again. “Is that what you want? I have no problem with fucking off and leaving you here.”

“No— please,” Hanamiya backtracks desperately, metal clinking as he tugs on the handcuffs, “Please, Imayoshi-san, _sir_ , I need you to fuck me.”

“That’s more like it,” Shoichi tells smugly, roughly grabbing Hanamiya’s flushed cock. “See how nice I can be when you use your manners, Makoto?”

The only answer Hanamiya gives is a garbled moan, grinding up against Shoichi’s iron grip.

“Greedy,” Shoichi chuckles, shaking his head as he slowly jacks Hanamiya off. He _knows_ it’s torture, with the cock ring still on, but Hanamiya’s gasps and groans are addictive. He could do this all night, teasing Hanamiya just to listen to those gorgeous sounds he makes.

“Fuck, more,” Hanamiya demands, “Sir, need more, please, need you to wreck me, need you to break me.”

“Aren’t you already broken? Hmm?” Shoichi asks, “Look at you, you filthy slut. You’ve got your legs spread for your enemy, don’t you? Begging for more like the slut you are. Haven’t I already broken you, and stripped you of all that pride?”

“Yes, sir,” Hanamiya gasps, “but it’s not enough. Need you inside me, need you to _destroy_ me, make me forget my own name.”

“How could I refuse, when you beg so pretty for me?” Shoichi smirks, pulling the vibrator out and tossing it aside, wiping his hand on his jeans. “I’m gonna blindfold you, and I’m gonna make you cry. Green?”

Hanamiya whines at the loss, tugging at the cuffs again. “Yeah, green, fuck.”

“You can stop trying that, those cuffs aren’t moving,” Shoichi comments blandly as he stands, coming around and grabbing a fistful of Hanamiya’s hair. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“What can I say?” Hanamiya shrugs, a hint of snarky pride showing through. “I like the way it feels when I’m pulling on them.”

Shoichi chuckles, letting Hanamiya’s head fall back against the pillow. “Pathetic.”

He drapes the blindfold across Hanamiya’s eyes, tying it tightly. Emerald silk, a perfect match for the cock ring on Hanamiya’s dick, contrasting his deathly pale skin beautifully. He had all of his toys made custom, the shade of green carefully chosen for Hanamiya. He never used them on anyone else, and he never would. They were for him, and they were for Shoichi. They were for those hours spent with just the two of them, teasing and playing and _breaking_.

_[it’s what some people call love, but shoichi is not some people]_

“I could just stare at you for hours,” Shoichi tells in a rare moment of honesty, “You look so perfect, all tied up and desperate for me.”

“That’s so sappy, I’m gonna puke,” Hanamiya deadpans, and despite the blindfold Shoichi knows that Hanamiya’s rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t quite hear you, Makoto,” Shoichi says sharply, “Do you want to repeat that?”

Hanamiya visibly pales as Shoichi grabs his jaw, digging his nails into the soft flesh of the younger boy’s cheeks.

“I said,” Shoichi growls, “do you want to repeat that?”

“No, sir,” Hanamiya mumbles, wincing slightly.

“I didn’t think so.” Shoichi tightens his grip, forcing Hanamiya’s mouth open. “Do I need to gag you after all, or are you going to behave?”

“I’ll—” Hanamiya struggles to say, the angle of his jaw muddling his words. “I’ll behave.”

Shoichi smirks, letting go and giving Hanamiya a condescending pat on the head. “Good boy.”

He takes a few steps back, his hands _finally_ finding the buttons of his shirt. He takes his time, making sure Hanamiya can hear each brush of fabric as he slowly unbuttons his shirt. His cock throbs almost painfully as he drags his boxers down, and he can’t resist taking himself in hand, stroking softly and letting out an intentionally loud groan.

“You look so fucked out, Makoto,” Shoichi tells roughly, “I’ve hardly touched you, and you’re already such a wreck. How pathetic.”

“Please, sir,” Hanamiya whines, cuffs rattling against metal as he strains towards Shoichi. “Please, I need it, I need _you_.”

“Pathetic,” Shoichi repeats as he kneels on the bed, spreading Hanamiya’s legs even wider. Without warning, he shoves his thumbs into Hanamiya’s slick hole, spreading him wide. Hanamiya moans, trying to buck into the touch, but Shoichi’s hands are iron, mercilessly holding Hanamiya’s hips in place. “Tell me how much you want this. Beg for me to fuck you into the mattress.”

“Fuck, _please_ ,” Hanamiya begs, “How many times do I have to say it, sir, _please_ , I want you to fuck me. Need you to fuck me, hold me down and use me, fuck me so hard, please—”

“That’s more like it, _Hanamiya-kun_ ,” Shoichi taunts, withdrawing his fingers. “You’re so filthy, so desperate for me. I suppose you’ve earned it.”

Shoichi takes his time lining himself up, pressing the head of his cock against Hanamiya’s hole without pushing in. Hanamiya lets out a frustrated groan, trying to push against Shoichi, trying to fuck himself on Shoichi’s cock, but Shoichi’s grip on his hips isn’t relenting. He knows Hanamiya will have bruises for days, and that only makes him harder.

“Last chance,” Shoichi purrs, “I’m gonna fuck you until I’m done, I don’t give a shit if you pass out. You’re not coming until you’re sobbing. Color?”

“Green, _please_ ,” Hanamiya gasps, “Sir, please, I need—”

A strangled groan, bordering on a scream, wrenches itself from Hanamiya’s throat as Shoichi pushes in, bottoming out in one thrust. He doesn’t wait for Hanamiya to adjust, pulling back out immediately and thrusting in again, _hard_. His hands tighten on Hanamiya’s hips, fingers pressing in dark bruises and nails pressing in careless crescents.

“Fuck,” Shoichi groans, fucking fast and hard into Hanamiya. “You’re such a slut, Makoto, such a filthy, desperate slut.”

“’M a slut,” Hanamiya gasps, his voice quivering, “Your slut, sir, _harder_ , please, need to come—”

“No,” Shoichi snaps, slowing his thrusts, rolling his hips slowly against Hanamiya’s prostate. “You heard what I said. You aren’t coming until you’re sobbing.”

“ _Please_ ,” Hanamiya begs, his thighs trembling violently. “Need more, please, sir!”

“No,” Shoichi repeats, keeping Hanamiya pinned with a single hand and fitting the other softly around Hanamiya’s throat. “You get what I decide to give you. Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir,” Hanamiya gasps, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, please—”

“Shut your mouth,” Shoichi demands, tightening his grip on Hanamiya’s throat. The strangled whine that Hanamiya lets out goes straight to Shoichi’s cock, and he’s not gonna last. 

He speeds up again, making sure to hit Hanamiya’s prostate with every deep, hard thrust, pressing Hanamiya against the mattress. The younger boy is gasping and whining, feeble attempts at speech forcing their way past Shoichi’s unforgiving grip, but he’s not crying yet. 

Shoichi’s not gonna make it, but he’s _definitely_ not giving in, either.

“Open your mouth,” Shoichi snaps as he pulls out, relaxing his grip but keeping Hanamiya’s hips pinned with his knees.

“No, sir, please,” Hanamiya pleads, whining at the loss of sensation, desperately trying to break free of Shoichi’s hold.

“Open your fucking mouth,” Shoichi demands, “I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

Hanamiya complies, too boneless and desperate to fight, letting his mouth fall open as his head falls back. Shoichi takes himself in hand, and it doesn’t take much before he’s coming in thick stripes across Hanamiya’s flushed face. He lets out a single moan, a barely audible gasp of Hanamiya’s name, and then he’s composed again, smirking despite the fact that Hanamiya can’t see him.

“Look at you,” Shoichi mocks, watching Hanamiya squirm beneath him. “So desperate for me, all covered in come. You’re disgusting.”

“ _Please_ ,” Hanamiya manages, and it takes all of Shoichi’s strength to keep the slut from moving, bucking, grinding.

“No.” Shoichi retrieves the vibrator and slides it back in, ignoring Hanamiya’s strangled pleas as he turns it on. “When do you get to come?”

“You’re an asshole,” Hanamiya moans weakly, his head thrashing back and forth as the sensations build.

“Don’t be like that,” Shoichi chastises, gently slapping Hanamiya’s thigh. “You’ve been doing so well, and I’m tired of repeating myself.”

“I— _fuck_ ,” Hanamiya curses, “I get to come when I’m crying, sir.”

“That’s right,” Shoichi smirks, lightly stroking himself. It’s taking every bit of composure he has to keep going despite the overstimulation, but he’ll be damned if he gives in to Hanamiya now. “I wonder if you’ll come dry before you earn an orgasm.”

“I can’t— I _need_ —” Hanamiya babbles, yanking on the cuffs. “ _Please_ , I can’t—”

“Color?”

“ _Shit_.” Hanamiya swallows hard, “Yellow— no, green. Green, sir.”

“Then you can,” Shoichi says coolly, “Pity this vibrator doesn’t go up any higher. I could really have you screaming then.”

“Told you,” Hanamiya gasps, “Shoulda got that other one I showed you— _fuck_!!”

Shoichi grabs Hanamiya’s cock roughly, thumbing almost cruelly at the slit. “Do you want to say that again, or are you done being a little shit?”

“No, I— sir,” Hanamiya pleads, “I need— _sir_ , need you.”

“You’re so fucking pathetic,” Shoichi chuckles, circling the head of Hanamiya’s cock with his thumb. “Are you gonna start crying, Makoto? Or are you gonna come dry first? To be honest, I’m not sure which would be more fun to watch.”

“Sir,” Hanamiya moans, his breathing starting to go erratic. “Sir, please.”

“I don’t know what you’re asking me for,” Shoichi tells smugly, “Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to keep going? You need to use your words, Makoto. Be a good whore and tell me what you want.”

“Want to _come_ , sir, need to come,” Hanamiya gasps, “Need you, need more, pl— _ease_!”

Hanamiya lets out a strangled cry, and the silk of the blindfold begins to darken, Hanamiya’s desperate tears mixing with the sticky evidence of Shoichi’s orgasm.

“There it is,” Shoichi murmurs, smirking as he swipes a gentle thumb across Hanamiya’s cheekbone, come and tears collecting on his skin. “You’re so pathetic, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Hanamiya sobs, “I’m pathetic, I’m broken, I need to come, sir.”

“Alright,” Shoichi shrugs, tugging the cock ring off. “Come for me, you whore.”

Hanamiya spasms violently the second the ring is off, his back arcing beautifully as thick ropes of come shoot from his swollen cock and paint his stomach with sticky, disgusting, gorgeous. Shoichi can’t take his eyes off of Hanamiya’s trembling figure, flushed with humiliation and desperation and _desire_ , desire for Shoichi. Shoichi feels himself hardening again just from watching the younger boy’s reactiveness, feeling him come apart beneath Shoichi’s hands.

_[it’s what some people call love, but shoichi is not some people]_

“I hope you know that we aren’t done,” Shoichi tells calmly, adjusting his glasses as Hanamiya writhes, the vibrator still buzzing against his abused prostate. 

“Not done,” Hanamiya pants brokenly, “Not done ‘til you say so. Green, sir.”

Shoichi chuckles as he gently removes the vibrator, forcing Hanamiya’s legs open again. “You’re broken, Hanamiya-kun. You’d do anything right now, you’d beg for anything. What does that make you?”

Hanamiya grins weakly. “It makes me trash, sir.”

“Exactly.”

Shoichi thrusts roughly into Hanamiya’s abused, sensitive, swollen hole, unable to hold back his moan as Hanamiya _screams_ at the overstimulation.

“Not gonna stop now.” Shoichi manages to keep his tone level. “Not gonna stop until I’m done, even if you pass out. Gonna take whatever I want from you.”

“Please,” Hanamiya sobs, “Please, more, more, _fuck_ me!”

Shoichi smirks. “Gladly.”

He forces Hanamiya’s thighs up, folding the younger boy in half beneath him and holding him firm again the mattress, as he begins to fuck him in earnest. He has no restraint left, no patience. All that’s left is his desire, and Hanamiya’s cries, and the lewd sound of skin on skin as he thrusts relentlessly into Hanamiya.

“Not gonna last, sir, gonna come again,” Hanamiya warns, his voice weak, and Shoichi blinks in surprise as he realizes that Hanamiya really _is_ desperately hard again, despite the intense orgasm he’s barely come down from.

“You really are a slut, aren’t you?” Shoichi mocks, his voice rough as he fucks hard and fast into Hanamiya’s pliant body. “Come whenever you want, I don’t care. This isn’t about you anymore.”

“Only for you, I’m a slut for you,” Hanamiya babbles between moans as he tries to grind towards the sensation and away from the torture at the same time, but Shoichi’s not giving him an inch. “Sir, please, take me, take whatever you want, sir.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Shoichi chuckles, hand shooting up to choke Hanamiya again. “As pretty as your noises are, I’m done listening to you whine. Shut up and take it.”

Apparently a hand around his throat was all it took to bring Hanamiya over the edge again, and his scream is weak and broken and choked as he comes again. He clenches hard around Shoichi, and it’s enough to push him over as well. Shoichi comes with a groan without bothering to pull out.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Shoichi mumbles as he pulls out, letting his hold on Hanamiya relax. “Such a good little slut.”

“Only for you, sir,” Hanamiya wheezes, a satisfied smirk ghosting across his face before his eyes flutter closed and he passes out. It’s not the first time Hanamiya’s passed out right after — far from it — and Shoichi’s only surprised that Hanamiya lasted as long as he did.

He shakes his head sharply to clear the maudlin cloud from his head. He’s still got a job to do before he can let himself go boneless in the afterglow.

Shoichi gently uncuffs Hanamiya, his touches soft and careful where Hanamiya’s bruised himself tugging at the cuffs. At least he didn’t break the skin this time. Last time, he’d bitched at Shoichi for weeks. Just as gently, he unties the blindfold, and brushes a stray strand of hair out of Hanamiya’s face. He finds a soft smile stretching across his face, a rare and unconscious fondness showing through. Hanamiya really is beautiful like this, raw and unmasked and blissfully satisfied. Shoichi could stare at him for hours, days, years.

_[it’s what some people call love, but shoichi is not some people]_

Shoichi gets up, his legs just on the wrong side of steady, and quickly pads into the ensuite to run Hanamiya a bath. He’s covered in filth, to the point where a cloth won’t cut it, and there’s no way that _either_ of them are standing for long enough for a shower.

He sets the water running, just hot enough to cause slight discomfort to Shoichi — just the way Hanamiya likes it — and he quietly returns to the bedroom.

“Makoto,” he murmurs, a soft hand shaking the younger boy’s shoulder. “Wake up. You can sleep in a bit.”

“F’ck off, Sho,” Hanamiya mumbles, “Tired.”

“Makoto,” Shoichi repeats sharply, and Hanamiya’s eyes snap open. “We need to clean up. Do you think you can stand?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Hanamiya laughs roughly, “You didn’t hurt me that bad. ‘Course I can stand.”

But as soon as Hanamiya tries to stand, his legs buckle beneath him, and Shoichi barely catches him before he falls.

“Didn’t hurt you that bad, huh?” Shoichi smirks, easily scooping Hanamiya up. “I’ve got you.”

“How disgustingly emotional,” Hanamiya sneers, but Shoichi isn’t fooled for a second.

He doesn’t call Hanamiya out on it. That’s not how they work. There’s no sappy confessions, or emotional revelations. It’s simply Hanamiya putting up a fight, and Shoichi breaking him down. Time after time. That’s how they work, and more importantly, it’s what they both need.

Shoichi lowers Hanamiya into the slowly filling bath, and suppresses another fond smile at the bliss on Hanamiya’s face as he sinks into the water.

“Are you gonna fall asleep again?” Shoichi asks, “I don’t want you drowning in my bathroom while I change the sheets.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Hanamiya waves him off lazily. “I’m good, Shoichi. Go clean up before you have a stress-induced heart attack over the mess.”

“Shout if you need me,” Shoichi says simply, leaving the exhausted Hanamiya to soak.

He makes quick work of the worst of the mess, having done this time and time again. The bed gets stripped, sheets finding their way to the hamper — or, close enough to the hamper. Toys get put aside to be sanitized and stored later, discarded clothing gets tossed to the side. The bed still needs fresh sheets, but Hanamiya’s not the only filthy one, and it would be fucking stupid to put fresh sheets on before cleaning himself up.

Hanamiya hasn’t drowned when Shoichi gets back. He hasn’t done anything but sit there in the water.

“Honestly, do I need to wash your hair for you too?” Shoichi snaps, but there’s no bite to it. “Make some room, asshole.”

“I’m tired, Imayoshi-san.” Hanamiya blinks at him lazily, but slides forward enough to allow Shoichi to slide in behind him. “You can do it, since you’re the one who wore me out.”

“Greedy,” Shoichi says with a fond chuckle, but for once that night, he complies to Hanamiya’s demand, squirting a liberal amount of shampoo into his palm and gently massaging it into the younger boy’s scalp.

Hanamiya sighs softly as Shoichi washes his hair, leaning back against Shoichi’s chest and letting his eyes flutter closed.

“Oi, you can’t fall asleep yet,” Shoichi tells firmly, “I’m not gonna save you if you start drowning.”

Hanamiya snorts. “Sure you won’t.”

And Shoichi sighs, because _of course_ he wouldn’t let Hanamiya drown, _of course_ he’s gonna take care of the younger boy.

 _Of course_ he will keep texting Hanamiya, just like how Hanamiya will keep coming back for more.

“Rinse,” Shoichi orders quietly, and Hanamiya obediently slides down, submerging himself long enough for Shoichi to rinse the suds out. “Will you fall asleep if I leave again? The bed still needs fresh sheets.”

“I told you, Imayoshi-san, I’m good,” Hanamiya tells, “Shout if I start drowning or whatever.”

“Little shit.” Shoichi shakes his head as he climbs out of the bath, the worst of the filth washed away. He only spares a couple seconds to towel off before tugging a fresh set of sheets from the closet and heading back to the bedroom.

To be honest, Shoichi does a half-assed job with the bed, but despite Hanamiya’s assurances he’s uneasy leaving the younger boy alone for too long. He slaps a sheet on, shoves new pillowcases onto the pillows, and calls it a day. It’s summer in Tokyo, after all, so they hardly need any blankets. 

When he returns to the bathroom, Hanamiya’s eyes are closed again, and he clears his throat loudly.

“That was fast, Imayoshi-san,” Hanamiya drawls without opening his eyes. “I’m not asleep, don’t freak the fuck out.”

Shoichi sighs. He doesn’t bother to ask if Hanamiya can stand this time, lifting him bodily from the bath without a word and carrying him into the bedroom.

“You’re gonna make the sheets wet,” Hanamiya warns with a hint of mockery in his tone.

“Do I give a shit?” Shoichi snipes back, depositing Hanamiya on the bed and collapsing next to him before pulling the sheet over them both.

“Am I staying the night, then, Imayoshi-san?” Hanamiya asks with an innocent blink.

“As if you’re in any state to leave,” Shoichi snorts, fumbling around on the nightstand for a pack of smokes and a lighter. He lights the smoke easily, taking a long drag, and subtly watches Hanamiya for any signs of pain or discomfort beyond the expected.

Neither of them speak for a few minutes as Shoichi smokes and Hanamiya sinks into the pillow. Shoichi’s almost convinced that Hanamiya’s asleep when he speaks.

“You know, one of your men showed up at my office this morning,” Hanamiya tells lazily.

“Did he now,” Shoichi comments blandly, “What would one of my men want with you, of all people?”

Hanamiya chuckles. “He offered me some money in exchange for joining up. Apparently he’s been skimming your profits for months without you noticing.”

“Is that so.” Shoichi feels an icy rage building at the thought of the traitor, the sticky-fingered kyoudai responsible for all of his stress. “And what, pray tell, was your response?”

“Took the money,” Hanamiya shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Why indeed,” Shoichi echoes, “considering that you know whose money that is.”

“I’d say I earned it, Imayoshi-san,” Hanamiya insists, that faux innocence glimmering in his eyes. “After all, I did take care of your traitor.”

Shoichi chuckles softly. “And is the traitor still in one piece?”

“Who knows?” Hanamiya smirks. “All I know is that I left him with my boys. You should be receiving a _very_ special delivery tomorrow.”

Shoichi can’t hold back a proper laugh at that, and Hanamiya’s smirk is edging on a genuine smile. 

He doesn’t trust Hanamiya, not in the slightest. The younger boy is, after all, the heir to the Aomine-kai’s most irritating enemy.

No, he doesn’t trust Hanamiya. But he trusts Makoto. He trusts the boy he sees in the bedroom, when it’s just the two of them. No masks, no posturing, no rivalry.

When it’s just the two of them, he trusts Hanamiya Makoto.

_[it’s what some people call love, but shoichi is not some people]_

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://charlie-albus.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/hoshizorachar)


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